The Stress of Pets
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Set during AoI or RV. Jem and Walter have the task of taking care of Bertie Shakespeare Drew's mischievous dog and cats. Jem rejoices at the task, while Walter dreads it.


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Anne of Green Gables.**

 **Anyone who has pet-sitted knows the true stress of taking care of other people's prized pets. :P**

Anne and Gilbert encouraged all kinds of good, keen industry in their children. Often they found little jobs, little errands to run for neighbors; for someone busy, small chores, or getting something at the store when they were already in the heart of Glen St. Mary's shops. They were never too tiresome or taxing, and it warmed Anne's heart to see them running up to her after they'd performed the little job with a bright little coin.

Their objections to these little jobs were few and far between. Usually it was due to ill-timing—"You have school at this time, Jem, and you can't forsake your education to go haying"—or a bad idea of a job—"Walter, dear, I don't believe the folks of Glen St. Mary will appreciate dried four-leaf clover bouquets as Mummy does" —usually it wasn't due to the ill-reputed folks they'd do jobs for. Overall, despite the small dysfunctions and peculiarities of the Glen St. Mary community, they were a tight-knit, respectable bunch. However, there were certain families of certain names that made Susan wrinkle her nose and share a knowing look with Mrs. Dr. Dear.

One of these such families was the family of Jem's little friend Bertie Shakespeare Drew. Bertie's mother was Mrs. 'Second Skimmings' Drew, and Bertie a bit of an imp with a proclivity for causing general raucousness and deal-breaking fisticuffs. Anne didn't mind Jem having fun with Bertie in their backyards (as long as no blood came to surface), but to engage in business with the Drews was a concerning business proposition.

Jem came running up the front porch steps of Ingleside one gloriously green June afternoon; Walter came at his heels, matching his elder brother's pace and energy for once. Shirley trailed after them, stoutly taking each step one at a time, heavily setting his sturdy little foot down firmly before launching upwards once more. He'd met them at the front gate and brought up the rear of their little party.

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!" Eleven-years-old Jem Blythe usually kept himself from relapsing into the old dear name for his mother. However, the excitement of the situation brought his wits into a haphazard heap, and he barely thought upon it as he came to stand at her knee.

Anne leaned forward in her rocking chair and set aside her darning and socks and listened attentively. Her hands clasped and her shining grey eyes saw deeply into the eager soul of her Little Jem. That was the thing about Mother—she listened completely and totally. Mother didn't disregard any of their troubles or concerns. Each was listened to thoroughly and fully and understandingly. Jem knew that some mothers didn't do that, like Bertie Shakespeare Drew's mother. Oh, _his_ mother was so understanding!

"What is it, Jem?" Walter came up to her other knee. His chest didn't heavily heave from exertion and excitement such as Jem's did. Walter was calm and clear. "And Walter, dearest, what is it?" She stroked her son's dark hair. Where'd he get such black hair? Surely not from either her or Gilbert. It must've been from her father, the little lad's namesake.

"Oh, Mother! We've received a job! Bertie Drew wants me and Walter to watch his dog and cats while he's off visiting relatives in Kingsport! They've got the hired man to take care of the farm while they're gone, but Bertie wants us especially to watch his animals! And he'll pay us each a penny a day!" Jem was so excited by this prospective business deal that he didn't read the clear exchange of silent words between Anne and Susan Baker, who rocked in a chair beside Anne and would say a word or two once the young ears were out of range.

"How many days is this for? And what will taking care of his animals entail, Jem? You know it is quite a lot of work to take care of someone's pets—and a lot of time. You remember how dogs depend on quite a lot of companionship each day—and how many cats?"

"Only a week," Jem said dismissively, as if a week was a day, and not worth worrying over, "and I don't love Bertie's dog, Bear. He won't hurt me like Gyp and Bruno did." No, Gyp's death and Bruno's inability to love Jem had quite scarred the young man, and he didn't feel terribly inclined to lend his heart to another beast who would chew it up and spit it out without a single regard for the deepness of the tender, pure love it held.

"The dog's name is Bear," muttered Susan Baker. Still, that was all she would say at the moment. Her knitting needles clattered loudly instead.

"I know it's a lot of time, but that's all right. It's summer, no school, and there's Walter besides. That's why I've got him as my partner. If Dad needs me to do something and I have to do it instead of go over to the Drew farm, why, Walter can go." Walter took the big pat on the shoulder his brother gave him. The lad looked as if he didn't foresee the task of watching the argumentative and uncouth Drew family's pets as a particularly easy one, but as a duty that he must endure and see through to the end. "Also, only two cats. One sleek one that takes fits, though it don't take half the fits as the Shrimp does. Then another, name's Ophelia."

"Did Mrs. Drew name that one too?" Susan muttered.

Anne hid the twist of laugh dancing on her lips from sight and said, "You must realize all the responsibility you now have, Jem. You must take care of this dog and these two cats, feeding them and watering them and making sure they don't run away every day."

"A penny a day," Susan muttered, as if doubting this regular wage by the cheapest family in the Glen.

"I know I can do it, Mother. Oh, I must. Bertie said, 'Well, I don't know if you can do it, Jem Blythe. Dogs don't like you. They die on you and run away from you, and I like my dog pretty well enough to not want you to watch him.' Mother, I _must_ show him! I must show him that I can take care of a dog!" Anne privately thought, in her heart, that her tender little son wanted to prove to himself most of all that dogs were not allergic to him.

Anne patted his hand encouragingly. "All right, dear. You've made a promise to do it, and therefore you must carry it through to the end. And Walter, it is good of you to aid your brother." Walter gave her a half-smile, as if he appreciated her noticing his little sacrifice, even if he didn't want to do it as readily as Jem did.

Jem ran off to find his sisters, the Merediths, and Mary Vance in Rainbow Valley to boast of his new little source of income and Walter went to sit amongst Susan's nasturtiums and the frilly chrysanthemums. Delicate, pretty flowers were soothing to the soul that appreciated pretty, artistic things as opposed to drooling tongues and cats' claws.

Anne sat back and took up her knitting, and Susan took up the conversation.

"I don't believe those Drews will give our boys their due earned wage! A penny a day! Those Drews aren't dependable to hold up their ends of business deals, they're so shrewd and stingy. I can't imagine those animals being nice things—the Shrimp of ours is half all-right, for a cat, but I can't imagine any dog and two cats raised by those mischievous, trouble-loving children to be nice little critters, and our boys to take care of them for a whole week! They'll realize that they've been taken advantage of within the first two days! Our boys!"

"Perhaps it is for the best," Anne said quietly, as if she knew she must say what she thought and yet withstand Susan's surprise.

"I don't wish any Drew backstabbing on anyone, never mind trusting Jem and Walter!"

"Jem found the job and he promised it. He must go through with the promise, despite what troubles may waylay him, and he will come out knowing that he must know all the details of a business deal before diving in headfirst." Anne knew that Jem was a good lad who was usually very thoughtful, but, in this situation, had lost his head at the first mention of 'dog'. The only reason Walter had gotten involved at all was his loyalty to Jem and his inability to not help any one of his loved ones in distress.

"It'll be a hard lesson for them both, you can be sure of," Susan muttered.

Anne was a teacher, of school in years past, and of life in recent years. She knew that the boys must learn it, and indeed, they would.

The first day was the following Saturday. Walter was dragged along by an eager Jem to the Drew farm. They found several packed trunks and bags in the Drew wagon, waiting to be taken to the train station. Bertie Shakespeare led them to the barn, where he pointed out the dog, Bear, wrestling with a dry bone devoid of meat in the corner, and the two cats lurking in the hay loft. The fitty one, Rufus, strolled around like he was stepping on broken eggshells. Ophelia, a great fat pile of cat, looked down at them with yellow glowing eyes from twenty feet up.

"There's a big pail of scraps mixed in with meal in the kitchen. They drink from the pigs' trough. Make sure they don't get trampled by the pigs. They get into awfully nice mud fights with the pigs over the water—lots of scratching. They get awful mad when they're all cut up and bit, and I don't want my pets to die like that." Bertie Shakespeare looked at Jem suspiciously, as if he knew that they would undoubtedly come to near-death under the eye of the cursed Jem Blythe.

Jem took great offense to this but wisely saved his fists from blood and said, "I guess they'll be just fine!"

"I'll pay you next Saturday when we come back." Bertie Shakespeare stuck his hands in his pockets and gave Walter a grim look-over. "I think you should be paid a penny every two days, for you won't be working very hard, Sissy Blythe."

Bertie Shakespeare had a lot of bravado for calling Walter Sissy Blythe after Walter had won that schoolyard fight for Faith's honor. Jem's hands formed fists at his sides, but Walter just looked at Bertie from beneath his shaggy black hair and said, "A promise is a promise, Bertie. Don't promise what you can't keep up. Also, since we're taking care of them today, then all next week and Saturday, that's eight days. Eight pennies apiece."

Bertie Shakespeare took to arguing this point. He pointed out that it was already past noon and only half a day, and that he'd be back by noon next Saturday. Contractual differences eventually converged into a final reluctant compromise—a half-penny for each boy for each Saturday, resulting in fourteen pennies overall. Walter and Jem were satisfied with the fairness of this, and Bertie Shakespeare still grumbled over what he deemed a large sum.

Walter and Jem walked together back to Ingleside, both to return that evening to take care of the dog and cats together. After that, they'd go one in the morning and one in the evening.

"Seven cents in one week! Golly, Walter!" Jem said.

Walter was silent—he knew this fact, but he didn't particularly glory in it. He'd rather sit in Rainbow Valley and imagine out rich menagerie kingdoms than take care of scruffy Bear Drew.

Nan and Di turned up their noses at this piece of news—they didn't care about Bertie Shakespeare's pets. Jem grumbled as he and Walter walked back along the clay road to the Drew farm after Susan's good supper that night. He didn't appreciate being the only person to appreciate the perks of the job.

"Here, Bear! Here, Bear!" Jem clapped his hands as they came upon the open entrance of the Drew barn. It wasn't clean and tidy; stray hay mixed with mud and manure and covered the whole floor. Cows lowed over the pastures as the hired hand brought them in from the pastures. Their smell plus the sweaty horses trotting around untethered made Walter's nose wrinkle.

Jem was blind to these small details and cheered as the Labrador trotted up to him. He tried to pet him, but Bear was used to finding at least some tempting morsel in the hands of those who called. When he discovered no reward for his efforts, he bared his teeth at Jem and growled at him.

Walter stepped back, scared and horrified. His experience with dogs was actually very good and calm, and to see an annoyed such creature caught him off-guard.

"He's just looking for food, Walter," Jem said reassuringly. He trotted off to the kitchen to fetch the pail, and Walter stood facing the bared teeth of a hungry animal. Bear immediately trotted off to the communal feeding trough, though, when Jem dumped a few hearty spoonfuls into it. Suddenly, rushing past Walter, was the fitty cat, Rufus. He was as fast as lightning, and twitched as he ate at the trough.

Walter was so fixated with this cat that seemed not a cat but a piece of land-bound lightning that he didn't see but felt the saunter of Ms. Ophelia. He looked down to see the huge puffball taking her sweet time walking in and around his shoes, scattering mess from the barn floor all over him. She purred away, like her work there was done, and joined Rufus, who shrieked at her and then went back to eating.

"Aren't they great?" Jem stood back with his hands at his hips and grinned at Walter.

Walter couldn't say a word. He was used to calm, well-behaved pets, not these proud, harum-scarum breeds.

How could he do this? Jem would enjoy it. He wouldn't—not at all. Yet, a promise was a promise. He wouldn't be Walter Blythe, promise-breaker. He couldn't live with himself if he did that.

So the week played out. Everyday Jem enjoyed himself and Walter dreaded every visit. He got stuck with the mornings, as Jem was less afraid of the dark (and Mother let him stay out later than he). Every day he'd go out in the dewy morning and fail to enjoy the walk because of the task he knew lay ahead of him. He'd walk onto the Drew farm and not find a single animal in the barn. Ten minutes would be spent calling frantically for the pets. Walter always worried he'd lose them forever, and have Bertie Shakespeare Drew spread all over the Glen that Walter was irresponsible and pathetically helpless. Somehow, though, he discovered them in the oddest spots—Rufus on the top of the Drews' well, Bear in the bucket pile near the entrance to the cellar, Ophelia under a big hydrangea bush.

Feeding them, he worried that they'd run out of scrappy meal before the Drews came back. Somehow, though, there was always enough. Then he'd stand over the fence and watch the cats and dog lap at the water amongst the pigs, and hope he wouldn't have to get down into the mud to wrestle out scrappy dogs and cats under attack by angry, bristle-haired pigs. Oh, the very thought made him shudder and his stomach ache. One day Rufus had been cornered by the biggest pig and Walter had yelped and tried to poke them off each other with the wooden end of a hoe. Rufus emerged alive and barely scratched, though he had a bite in his side from the annoyed pig. Walter groaned.

Walter would walk back to sit in the Ingleside kitchen a while with Susan, and have Mother pet his hair, and feel glad that the days were dwindling in number, and soon no more would he have to go back to that place.

Jem, of course, had no such exciting adventures, and enjoyed domestic felicity concerning the keeping of the Drew animals. Walter had no sympathy, but perhaps a drop of envy every time Jem came back with a sigh to say that 'nothing of interest happened.' Oh, what a luxury Jem enjoyed!

Walter was not one to withhold exciting tales of adventure, though. On Thursday he ran home at such a pace as would have beat any boy in a race at school and called madly for Jem. Jem emerged from the attic where he'd been glorying in a warm spread of sunlight and _The Life-book of Captain Jim_ and wondered, "Walter, what's worth shouting about?"

"I've lost Bear! I can't find him anywhere!"

Without a word Jem bolted after him, and they raced past the disgruntled Shrimp down to the Drew farm. A frantic search and calling for Bear ensued all over the acres. Jem combed the hay and wheat fields and leapt over broken fences. Walter explored the woods and the farmhouse. The hired hand was busy plowing and didn't stop once he realized that the two boys were looking for a lost dog rather than a lost person. It was left to these two entrepreneurs to rectify the situation.

It took more than three hours to locate the dog, and what wearying, taxing, worrying hours they were! Jem ripped the knee of his trousers and lost his hat. Walter's hair stood up everywhere and his sleeves were berry-stained and caught from traipsing through a briary berry patch. But, eventually, Bear showed up on his own. He'd found a fellow canine friend wandering down the road and had chosen to walk a piece with him just as Walter had come up the other end of the road. Bear returned on his own good time and was hungry, and confused as to why these two sweaty boys so thoroughly scolded and petted him in turn.

Walter hoped there would be no more misadventures until the Drews returned, but his wish was left unfulfilled. On Friday morning, he raced home in similar fashion as the day before to tell Jem, "I can't find Ophelia!"

Jem at this point was silently exasperated—twice now, Walter lost the animals! Still, he ran to his panicking brother's aid, and they searched the farm. It took less time this time to find the missing animal, but there were undoubtedly bigger ramifications to face. For they discovered in a secret corner of the hay loft a less-fat Ophelia, acting as protective mother bear to four new kittens.

Jem almost swore. "Kittens! For heaven's sake—kittens!"

Walter knelt a foot or two away from the mother and kittens. He looked at Ophelia with his gentle eyes as he gently extended a soft paw. Ophelia didn't snarl at him as Bear had; she instead watched sternly and attentively as he gently petted the soft back of a white kitten with the back of his knuckles.

"They're so soft," Walter said, looking up at the amazed Jem with bright eyes.

Jem ran back for their dad, leaving Walter to look contentedly on the beautiful scene before him. Gilbert arrived to check over the mother and babies. "I'm not an animal doctor, but I can tell that there's nothing wrong with them. She had an easy birth." Gilbert knelt and offered a finger to the mother. She gently licked it.

"All right, boys, they're your responsibility until the Drews return." Gilbert educated them on bringing food especially up to the mother and water also, and to not touch any of the kittens. Walter and Jem were both grateful to have such a smart, knowing father.

The boys spent many hours, both that morning and evening, with Ophelia and the kittens. When Bertie Drew Shakespeare arrived at noon the next day, Jem led him with pride up to the mother's bedside, telling him all the tales of their week.

Bertie Shakespeare Drew scowled. "We knew she was gonna have kittens, but she might've had them while we were still home!" He begrudged the Blythe boys the fun experience. When Jem asked for the money they were due, Bertie Shakespeare Drew squirmed like a fish caught on a hook.

"Say, I dunno about the fourteen cents. Walter here lost my pets not once but _twice_. And Rufus! He looks like he was in an alley fight! I don't think you earned all fourteen cents."

Walter stood up, but Jem grabbed Bertie's collar. He didn't hit him, but he said, "A promise is a promise, Bertie. You don't want people to think that Drews go back on their promises. That's worse than accidentally doing something wrong, 'cause you're doing it on purpose."

Bertie Shakespeare Drew heard some sense in Jem's words, but understood better the promise of some fists to his head to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He placed seven cents in each Blythe boy's hands, scowling all the while, in spite of Susan Baker's doubts.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Bertie," Jem said amiably. He was in a cheerful mood. Mother had wanted them to see it through and they'd done their part to the utmost.

Walter didn't say a word. He bid goodbye to Ophelia and the cats and passed Bertie to the barn floor and out onto the road. He feared that if he said something, it would imply that he would do it again, and nothing, not money nor loyalty to Jem, could convince him to spend another week in mortal dread of every kind of trouble falling onto Bertie Shakespeare Drew's pets. He'd rather pick his jobs more carefully in the future.

 **Thanks for reading! Review?**


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